Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 111089 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 555(@200wpm)___ 444(@250wpm)___ 370(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111089 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 555(@200wpm)___ 444(@250wpm)___ 370(@300wpm)
He reached into his jacket pocket and retrieved a box wrapped in brown paper. He eyed it for a moment, seeming to struggle with the thought of handing over his secrets, his darkness. That feeling was familiar to me, considering what it had taken me to hand him mine.
He finally pushed it toward me, and I took it, being as cautious with the package as I would be with his delicate heart.
Droplets collected on the paper.
As I felt his hold let up, I said, “Thank you,” then quickly tucked it into my jacket pocket to protect it from the rain.
“We’ll have to find time to talk about it, maybe this weekend.”
“For sure.”
“Guess I should go.”
I wanted to hug him again, but we were caught in this gray area, struggling with what was and wasn’t appropriate, lying to ourselves, it seemed, as we acted like we hadn’t crossed far too many lines already.
He headed to his car, and I went to mine, turning on my overhead light and looking at the packaging of the box he’d given me as the rain started to come down harder against the windshield.
Here it was, what I’d been waiting for.
Eagerness mixed with tension as I tore through the paper and pulled the lid off the box inside, revealing a small stack of pictures.
The first was of a boy—had to have been four or five years old—smiling for what appeared to be some sort of professional photo. He had the brightest smile. His brother, was my first thought as I turned the picture over to see the name Cody written in cursive.
The next picture, an old 3x4, was Cody with another kid, unmistakably little James, who looked like he might have been in middle school. And after that, another had what I could only assume was James’s parents. I reflected on how little he’d mentioned them, almost as if he’d never had any parents.
They looked like such a happy family, his mother with long blonde hair, similar enough to James’s that it was likely the side he got it from. Although, he had his father’s face—that nose and jawline.
I flipped to the next one, another picture of his brother in a letterman jacket, much longer hair than in the last picture, still smiling brightly. It was a gorgeous smile. He had this magic about him, and I wondered if that was something I imagined because of what James had told me about him.
I was surprised by the next item—not a picture, but a brochure, torn and wrinkled up. Some summer camp, looked like, with images of kids horseback riding and swinging rope into a creek. As I opened the brochure, I scrutinized it…realizing what it was.
We aren’t defined by labels like gay, lesbian, bisexual, or transgender.
We are God’s children.
Here at Light and Love, we will help remind you that God’s love really is enough and that you can live by the teachings of Christ. Build your foundations on a rock!
Rhetoric like that went on and on, mixed with promises of activities and friends, and apparently so much of Christ’s love that you wouldn’t need anyone else.
I knew what this was. It wasn’t my idea of Christianity or a fun summer camp.
It was a conversion camp.
And suddenly, so many of the things James had mentioned about his brother—and even his initial concern about my sexuality—made sense.
“Oh fuck,” I muttered, turning and seeing a photocopied page from a journal. I read a passage, noting those parts that stood out most.
I miss home.
I miss my brother.
I’m so scared.
Tears filled my eyes, making it hard to read.
I turned to the last page, a newspaper clipping about a kid jumping from his dorm at Georgia Tech.
Oh, my fucking heart.
James…so many things made sense now that I’d seen all that.
His guilt about his brother’s death, his distant relationship with his parents…
Goddammit.
Fuck next week.
26
James
After I returned home, I went into the kitchen and poured myself a glass of whiskey. I opened the French doors to the porch, taking a look at the rain coming down, before going back inside.
Life always had a way of throwing a curveball. Just when I wanted a night with Kyle all to myself, of course his classmates would show up. I should have been happy that some of my students had actually taken me up on the extra credit, but I missed our alone time in a way I knew I shouldn’t have. And I’d hoped I would have the opportunity to be present when he saw the contents of the box I’d arranged for him.
But it seemed that wasn’t our fate.
I savored a sip of whiskey, thinking about another life…a world that didn’t exist…where Kyle and I were friends, without this obstacle standing between us. Where I could sit with him and discuss it comfortably, openly, without fear of repercussions.